You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies My enemies are my own doubts, my need for control, my desperate grasping. Feed me the truth. I'm starving for something real. You anoint my head with oil Pour it over these questions, this confusion. Let it run down into the cracks where I'm breaking. Seal what needs sealing. Heal what needs healing. My cup overflows Not with answers, but with presence. Not with understanding, but with promise. Your love doesn't depend on my strength, thank you God, because I have none left 🥹🥹🥹 Happy Birthday to my humble self